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Muhammad's POV
As A'isha excused herself to use the bathroom, I barely registered the moment, assuming it was a routine action. However, when Nadia followed suit a few minutes later, I felt a flicker of concern, though it was quickly overshadowed by other distractions. It wasn't until we heard the muffled screams emanating from the bathroom that my senses sharpened, and an instinctual dread crept over me.
The urgency in the screams pierced through the air, causing an immediate reaction from Umma, Farida, and myself. We rose simultaneously, drawn to the source of the distress. Each step towards the bathroom felt heavy, weighed down by a sense of impending doom.
As we approached the door, another gut-wrenching scream pierced the silence, echoing through the hallway. "Meh ke faruwa?" Umma's words hung heavy in the air, laden with fear and uncertainty.
Pushing open the door, I was met with a sight that froze me in place. Nadia stood over A'isha, her hands clenched around her, shaking her violently. A'isha lay on the floor, blood trickling from a wound on her head, staining her dress sleeves. The realization hit me like a physical blow—Nadia had attacked her.
Anger surged within me, mingling with a potent cocktail of panic and disbelief. The sight of A'isha's prone form, vulnerable and injured, fueled a fierce protectiveness within me.
Rushing forward, I pushed Nadia away from A'isha, my hands trembling with a mixture of rage and fear. "What have you done?!" My voice came out in a hoarse, choked whisper, barely recognizable to my own ears.
Nadia's eyes, devoid of remorse, met mine with a chilling indifference. "I didn't mean for it to get this fa—"
"Rufe mana baki! Er rashin hankali kawai!" Umma's voice boomed, cutting Nadia off mid-sentence. Aunty Halima approached behind us, her expression a mixture of shock and concern, demanding to know what had transpired.
"Get a driver quickly," I instructed urgently, my voice strained with panic, as I lifted A'isha's limp form. With trembling hands, I attempted to cover her head with her scarf, desperate to shield her from prying eyes.
"Innalillahi wa inna ilahi raji'un," A'isha's sister murmured tearfully, her voice filled with sorrow as she stared at her sister's lifeless body. The sight of her grief pierced my heart, flooding me with guilt and determination.
Farida rushed to comfort her, offering reassurance. As we emerged from the house, the weight of the situation hung heavy in the air, each step a struggle against the tide of uncertainty and fear.
With A'isha cradled in my arms, we made our way to the waiting car. The 4 of us including A'isha got into one car with the driver and Farid, umma and umar followed us in another.
As we drove through the night, the gravity of the situation settled upon us like a heavy shroud, filling me with a profound sense of anger and disbelief. How could Nadia have stooped so low, unleashing such reckless violence over petty jealousy?
In the midst of the chaos, one thing remained clear— I would ensure A'isha received the care and protection she deserved. "Don't die on me baby please" I whispered quietly in her ear as I made Dua in my head.
The sound of A'isha's sister's stifled sobs echoed in the confines of the car, a haunting melody of grief and despair. Farida's attempts to console her were met with hollow reassurances, the weight of the situation too heavy to bear.
As we arrived at the hospital, a sense of urgency descended upon us. Doctors and nurses rushed to A'isha's side, their faces a mask of determination and concern as they worked tirelessly to stabilize her condition.
I paced the sterile corridors, my mind awash with a whirlwind of emotions— fear, anger, guilt. How could I have allowed this to happen, to expose A'isha to such danger? The weight of responsibility bore down on me like a leaden weight, threatening to crush me.
Hours passed in agonizing silence, each minute stretching into eternity as we waited for news of A'isha's condition. Farida and I sat huddled together in the waiting room, our thoughts consumed by prayers for her recovery.
Finally, a doctor emerged from the operating room, his expression grave yet hopeful. "She's stable, for now," he said, his words a balm to our frayed nerves. "But it's too soon to say what the long-term prognosis may be."
As the doctor's words sank in, a collective sigh of relief swept through the room, mingled with fervent prayers of gratitude. Farida rushed to the room where A'isha lay, her footsteps echoing with urgency as she sought solace in the sight of her sister.
"Alhamdulillah," Umma's voice rang out.
With hesitant steps, we entered the room to see A'isha lying pale and still on the hospital bed, surrounded by beeping monitors and sterile equipment. The air was heavy with the scent of antiseptic, making me nauseous.
Umma's gaze fell on A'isha's unconscious form, her brow furrowed with concern. "What about her parents?," she began, her voice heavy with solemnity. "A'isha's parents... who will tell them, and what will we tell them?"
Fadila, her sister, looked up towards where I was standing. "I've already spoken to them," she said quietly. "I told them we were staying over at our cousins Lulu's house."
Umma nodded in acknowledgment, and I thanked Fadilah for protecting us. "We'll call her mother in the morning," Umma decided, her voice tinged with resolve. "We'll tell them the truth, no matter how difficult it may be."
As the gravity of our situation settled over us like a shroud, my stress became palpable, and my brow furrowed with worry. What if she survives, but no longer wants to marry me? what if her parents no longer wish for her to?
A heavy silence descended upon the room, the weight of uncertainty pressing down upon us like a suffocating blanket. In the face of such profound uncertainty, all we could do was cling to hope and pray for A'isha's recovery, whatever the future may hold.
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The next morning, at 5 am, I returned home and promptly requested the security team to retrieve the footage of the hallway, from the previous night. Once in possession of the footage, I meticulously reviewed the recordings, starting from the moment A'isha left the living room to use the bathroom, followed closely by Nadia.
As I sifted through the footage, a chilling realization dawned upon me when I reached the part where the bathroom door opened aggressively, and A'isha's hand flew out swiftly, her blue dress sleeve unmistakable. I extracted the important parts, focusing on the crucial moments of A'isha's distress and my subsequent actions. Compiling these snippets into a shorter video, I saved it on my phone for evidence.
Upon returning my attention to the screen, I noticed Nadia in tears, seeking solace in Aunty Jamila's embrace. Despite the typically poor audio quality of surveillance recordings, I maximized the volume and plugged in my headphones, immersing myself in the playback, determined to discern any subtle nuances or clues hidden within the footage.
"Why is she ruining things for us, Aunty? Why must she marry Muhammad?" Nadia's anguished cries filled the room.
"She can't ruin anything for us! I warned you, Nadia, to stay calm so that everything goes according to our plan. Look what you've done now," Aunty Jamila scolded, her frustration evident.
"She pushed me to the wall, wallahi! She said very terrible things to me, Aunty," Nadia protested.
"We'll sort it out. You'll marry him sooner or later, don't worry," Aunty Jamila reassured her.
I couldn't bear to listen any longer. Removing my headphones, I ran a hand over my face, feeling the weight of stress and unnecessary drama bearing down on me. What foolish plan were they concocting? Was Aunty Jamila attempting to extort more money from the family? It was clear she wanted to exploit Nadia to manipulate me or extract money. Her greed and delusions knew no bounds. I couldn't understand how Baba tolerated her or allowed her to walk all over him. Whatever their scheme entailed, it wouldn't succeed.
I swiftly forwarded the footage to Sabiu, one of our reliable logistics associates and a trusted friend of the family.Sabiu was always prepared to handle the dirty jobs for the company from anywhere. While today didn't involve typical business affairs, it was crucial nonetheless. I instructed Sabiu to head to Nadia's family home and present them with evidence of her disruptive behavior. Along with the footage, I included three strategically chosen photos of Nadia: one flaunting immodest attire on Instagram, another at a bar in the company of a man, and a third of her at a club.
While I cared for Nadia and held no desire to intentionally harm her, she needed to learn a lesson and be humbled. Perhaps marrying an older man, chosen by her father, would provide her with the stability and restraint she desperately needed. Maybe it was time for her to leave behind the superficial allure of the world and embrace a simpler, more grounded life in Maiduguri or Kano.
One hour later, Sabiu texted me with the news that the task was completed. Nadia's mother was livid and humiliated, her distress evident in tear-streaked cheeks. Meanwhile, her father was incensed, demanding her immediate return to Maiduguri. Mission accomplished.
After showering, I returned to the hospital, where I found Aisha's parents and siblings gathered around her. Her mother was tenderly offering her soup, while her brother was gently massaging her feet. I greeted them, but my presence was met with stoic expressions and a frosty glare from her brother, as usual. Taking a seat, I expressed my sincere apologies to her parents, recounting the events that had transpired, even though I knew Umma had likely already briefed them. I took full responsibility for the incident and assured them that Nadia would no longer pose a problem. I hoped she felt remorseful for her actions, though I couldn't be certain.
Her father nodded understandingly, while her mother offered a half-hearted smile. "It wasn't your fault, we understand that," her father reassured me.
"I don't understand, and I don't want my sister anywhere near you or your family after this!" her brother interjected sharply.
"Fahd!" His mother scolded him, her tone a mix of disappointment and reprimand.
"Haba, Mamma, think about it. Ever since she's known this man, it's been nothing but stress and unhappiness for her. And now, look at this! She could've lost her life!" Fahd's voice was filled with frustration and concern.
"But she didn't," his wife whispered softly as she reached for his hand, trying to calm him down. I kept my head bowed, understanding his protective stance for his sister.
"Aisha was very happy about getting married, Fahd," their mother reminded him gently, casting a questioning glance towards Aisha.
"I was, ya Fahd, and I'm fine, alhamdulillah," Aisha responded quietly, her voice carrying the weight of exhaustion and distress. My heart ached hearing her once vibrant voice now subdued.
"Something like this will never happen again, I promise, wallahi," I assured her, searching her eyes for any sign of doubt or hope that she still desired this marriage. Why did I suddenly yearn for this union so desperately?
Before Fahd could retort, his father ushered him out of the room. "You can leave us, Muhammad. We will take care of her, don't worry. We'll discuss the details regarding your marriage and get back to you as soon as possible, insha Allah," her mother assured me. Though I wanted to protest, I simply nodded in understanding.
"Thank you, Mamma," I addressed Aisha, offering my apologies. "I'm sorry, Aisha. May Allah grant you healing and comfort," I whispered before exiting, unable to bear her response.
As I left the hospital room, a whirlwind of emotions swirled within me. Anxiety, guilt, and uncertainty weighed heavily on my shoulders. Less than two weeks remained until our wedding day, and yet, instead of excitement and anticipation, our journey together had been marked by turmoil and tragedy.
Aisha's fragile state reminded me of the fragility of life itself, and the realization that she could have been lost to us shook me to the core. Just like Mama...
Despite my assurances to her family, doubts gnawed at the edges of my mind. Would she still want to marry me after this ordeal? Would her parents approve of our union, knowing the risks involved? The prospect of facing Aisha's family, of confronting their concerns and doubts, filled me with apprehension.
My Karma had definitely caught up to me.
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Hello dear readers,
🤣🤣 I know I caught you guys off guard with that chapter!
I love y'all and our faves way too much to let their journey end in such a tragic way. 🤭🏃🏾♀️🏃🏾♀️🏃🏾♀️🏃🏾♀️
How do you feel about this chapter??
Let me know by COMMENTing, SHARE-ing, and VOTE-ing.
Love you all❤️
~Aïcha
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